Surf’s Up

His eyes open as pudgy, perfumed hands pat down sand.

“I fell asleep?”

“I put pills in your beer, Stepdaddy.”

Neck deep in the beach, he can’t move.

She walks. “You won’t hit Mommy again.”

“What? Come back you little b—”

The incoming tide silences him.

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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